Kundalini
by Pearl of the Dark Age
Summary: ONESHOT. Kurapica returns home. Sort of an blend between canon and AU, because it's a 'what could have been' fic. Very abstract, not recommended for younger readers.


Disclaimer: I don't own HunterxHunter.

**Kundalini **

by _Pearl of the Dark Age_

It had been too long. For hours the young man stood upon a hill overlooking an abandoned village. Crumbled stone and rotted wood lay scattered in the grass and wildflowers. They were vestiges of dwellings that had once contained laughter, passion, and tears. Nature claimed all, folding the remains within its green grasp. The sun was sinking towards the horizon. Kurapica's elongated shadow followed his heels as he walked slowly down the hill into the village.

He counted the houses, named the former residents, and visualized their faces in his mind. The pain was almost unbearable. Kundalini within him tightened, and he could hear the rattle of the chains. Blue-green eyes traveled down the main road up to the hill on the other side of the village. Beyond that hill, Kurapica knew, lay the ocean. He could smell the salt upon the breeze, mingling with the scent of wildflowers growing around the graves of his people.

It was that view upon that hill that he longed to see. Compelled by burning desire and a dark upwelling of scratches of memories, he climbed the high hill. Upon it lay a house. It had survived somehow, and it remained to be the only building that was intact. The front door was unlocked, and Kurapica stepped inside.

The scent of the lumber used to make the house was still present. The air clung to his nostrils as if begging him to remember. Flashes of images assaulted his mind, and he could hear laughter. His eyes snapped back open, and he was alone. The house invited him in further.

Broken furniture littered the floor. Treasured possessions were either missing or destroyed. His slender fingers caressed a moth-eaten blanket that lay across an overturned table. It had once been red. The floor was still red, and so were the walls. Again, when Kurapica closed his eyes, a brief vision passed through his mind. He could see a face, fair and beautiful, full of laughter. The eyes sparkled like the ocean; her smile was warm and friendly. But the memory departed again on swift wings.

Kurapica could not remember her name. He could have sworn that even though he had never met her, he knew who she was. This was the house where she had been born. He looked out the window to the ocean and the setting sun. Its rays streaming towards him like a thousand lanterns. Gold turned to orange, filling the entire red room.

The lone survivor walked slowly over to the window, watching gulls diving for their dinner in the mellow waves. Orange deepened to scarlet, and the first stars were heralding the twilight. Kurapica lay upon the floor, closed his eyes, and tried to remember all that he could. The visions haunted him even when awake. He fervently compelled himself forth to realize these memories in their fullest. Even if he could not be sure if there weren't entirely his…

Kundalini slithered and twisted inside him. The chains clinked and made their own music. The feel and sound of them became an obsession. Kurapica could feel the presence of another beside him. He dared not to open his eyes, lest he break the spell. In his mind, he could see the red room. Next to him lay the woman. He reached out to touch her. His fingers traced out elaborate designs that had been painted on her thigh. "These marks on your skin tell a story to my fingers," he said softly.

She smiled and laughed gently. "You should know, dear. You painted them." The mangalsutra around her neck clattered to the floor. Kurapica fingered the gold and black beads thoughtfully as she watched his every move. "Forget not Kama," she whispered.

"You know I am more interested in Dharma," Kurapica replied. He gave her a gentle smile. "My mantra has been for our people. I pray every day and night for them."

"Forget not yourself," she whispered sadly. She stroked his blonde bangs away from his face. "Kundalini is your life force. Don't let the flames die. Don't forget Kama, and don't forget me."

"These chains have imprisoned me - mind, body, and soul," Kurapica replied solemnly. "They are the instruments of my passion and ambitions. They are the tools for my revenge."

"What will you do if you satisfy this revenge?" she asked, sounding almost scared. "Where will you go?" He did not reply. She sighed deeply as a tear fell down her face. Her hands entwined with his, their fingers becoming entangled with the beads of her mangalsutra. "You have your revenge already, don't you?" she stated rather than asked. "There is no one left to blame, is there?"

Kurapica breathed in deeply, and with his exhale released his desire for revenge. It had been fulfilled. There had been nowhere else to turn.

Another tear slid silently down her face in prayer. "That's why you have returned, isn't it dear?"

_fin_.

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Author's Note: An explanation for the terminology is provided in my forum, **Ink**. 


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